Battle Not with Monsters
by Mad Madam Mina
Summary: After an attack on the Federation outpost of Tarracina, the Enterprise captures Romulan Captain Camilla Triaria. As Starfleet enters fragile diplomacy with the Empire, Spock learns just how much he and the Romulans have in common.
1. Chapter 1: Suspendium

**A/N:** I have some idea of where this is going, thought feisty characters often stray from the best-laid plot outlines. Stay tuned, review if you wish, and happy writing!

**Chapter 1: Suspendium**

The captain of the ship beamed at his bridge crew through eyes too young and bright for all their wisdom . From the rockiest of starts he had earned a healthy – if fledgling – respect from his senior officers. They were the best and brightest Starfleet had to offer, and each performed his or her job admirably.

But Kirk could sense a problem with morale like an ache in his own body. Now, with the computer poised to broadcast his words to entire ship, it was time to say what had gone so horribly unsaid.

"I know none of us have come through the tragedies of these past few weeks unscathed," he avoided his first officer's gaze. "But contrary to common belief, we aren't bound to each other by grief. At least, that's not what I signed up for." He felt the group tense. Good, he thought. Perfect timing for some healthy release.

"We're here for the same reason Columbus left the Old World in search of something new. For the same reason humans first colonized the moon, Mars, and Europa. We're here because we wonder what's just beyond the next horizon. Most of all, we're here because we believe that there are more than just monsters at the edge of the map, and because the wonders of the universe are more than we can – yet – imagine. I know a lot of us have lost loved ones…" He finally let himself look Spock in the eyes. The Vulcan shifted his own to the floor. "But I think they believed there are friends out there, and the exploration of common ground is as important as charting the stars."

He let that sink in a moment. The crew tactfully pretended not to hear a sob from Chekhov.

"Now, I'd love to raise a glass to this crew, but my first officer has informed me that Starfleet doesn't advocate intoxication on the job." They chuckled awkwardly between restrained tears. "So minus the glass, here's my toast: to the final frontier."

"The final frontier," they echoed.

After a short silence the crew resumed their stations. A small gasp came from Ensign Chekhov, followed by an irritating trill from his console.

"Captain," he said, clearing his throat. "We are receiving a distress signal from Tarracina outpost."

Kirk turned to Uhura. Her eyebrows were already set in determination as she listened to the signal.

"They're under attack," she said at last.

"How close are we, Sulu?" Kirk felt his heart sink. Starfleet ships were few and far between these days. He had a feeling it might take some time to get there.

"Not far," Sulu replied. "Zero-point-two light years away. But we are the only ship within range."

"Maximum warp."

Kirk ran the calculations in his head. Less than an hour. Not long, but plenty long enough for a battle to be lost or won.

"Captain!" Uhuru cried, staring at her terminal in horror. "It's a Bird of Prey. They're under attack by a Bird of Prey."

Silence fell across the bridge. It was no secret that Starfleet feared an advance by the Romulans. The Romulan Empire had honored the Treaty of Algernon for over one hundred years, but since the massacre at Vulcan the Federation had become an easy target.

Kirk turned to Spock. The Vulcan was already at his side. "Tarracina is equipped with only light weapons systems. However, we can anticipate survivors. The Romulans are conquerors, not killers."

Kirk nodded. "Kirk to sickbay. You'd better get ready for company."

"What?" McCoy growled over the intercom, but Spock cut him off.

"Prepare for an influx of patients at some point in the next hour. Combat injuries such as phaser burns and heavy impacts are likely. Spock out."

The two commanding officers exchanged a glance before falling back to the ready room. When the door shut behind them, Kirk let out a harsh sigh and rested his palms on the desk, facing away from Spock.

Spock waited in silence, observing him. He had yet to see his captain crack under pressure, and doubted he would anytime soon. Still, his heart leaped with sickening joy at the thought. He immediately suppressed the emotion and kept any traces from reaching outward expression.

James Kirk confused him. Spock felt such an odd mix of affinity and contention for the man. He had yet to find a logical source for these feelings, and resolved to mull them in later meditation.

Kirk finally turned, composed as ever.

"So, we have the honor of responding to the first Romulan attack – from our own time line – in a hundred years. Any suggestions?"

"We should notify Starfleet immediately."

Kirk waved impatiently. "Yes, yes." He paused for a moment. "It could be a rogue ship."

"Possible," Spock nodded, "But highly unlikely. From what we know of the Romulans, they keep a militaristic social structure in which loyalty is highly valued."

"Still, they only sent one ship. Maybe they're testing us."

"That is more likely."

"If that's the case then we'd better bluff," Kirk smirked coldly. "But… what if it's a rogue ship?"

Spock frowned. "I fail to see the value in following that line of thought when other possibilities are far more likely-"

"Spock, I'm surprised at you," Kirk chided. "You would dare to insult the Romulan Empire? Such an honorable people would never go back on their word. It MUST be a rogue ship."

"Based on the evidence at hand..."

Kirk shook his head. His mind was apparently set as he headed for the bridge.

"Captain, I must protest. This is little more than wishful thinking."

"Spock..." Both looked down. Spock had taken hold of Kirk's arm.

"I... apologize," Spock released his grip. He felt Kirk searching his face as he attempted to drain the flush from his cheeks.

"Hey, don't mention it," Kirk said. "Look, we're all a little tense. Here's what I'm thinking. The Romulans know the Federation is hurt, but they don't know how bad. So they're scoping us out. If we can convince them we have a healthy fleet they might back down, right? I don't think they'd want to risk another war ending in stalemate. But if we treat the attack like an act of war, they might decide to take us up on it anyway. So we go in there like it's a rogue ship."

Spock narrowed his eyes. "Offer them a scapegoat?"

"Exactly."

"I see," Spock thought a moment. "In that case, we should proceed under the guise of a patrol ship."

Kirk cocked his head to the side. "Not bad. I guess I should share plans with my first officer more often, huh?"

"That would be prudent, as I cannot offer input on strategies I am not yet aware of."

"Right," Kirk grinned and left him without another word.

* * *

Captain Camilla Triaria watched the Federation outpost submit as her crew made short work of the commanding officers. One woman broke free with a scream and attempted to attack a soldier, only to be subdued by a phaser blast.

Camilla surveyed her prisoners. They stared back at her in hollow, frightened defeat. The outpost was obviously scientific in nature, though the inhabitants must have felt on constant holiday. The small cluster of buildings was located along a fertile stretch of land adjacent to a sandy beach, just north of the planet's equator.

Still, the humans had not grown complacent. They had surprised her with their force and managed to kill one officer and wound another.

"Your dead leaders have fought admirably," she said to those before her. "There is honor and passion in your race. When given freely to the Romulan Empire, these traits will be greatly rewarded. But to those who resist..." she motioned to the recently-executed corpses, "only ruin awaits you."

With that, she let her second-in-command take over and headed for a dock on the beach.

She would let this outpost keep its Human leadership structure, but she would replace those at the top with her own crew members. The planet's location would make a convenient launch point for advancing on other barely-protected Federation worlds.

The destruction on Vulcan was so incredible to those on Romulus that rumor had spread faster than information. Their long-hated rivals and the strongest pillar of the Federation had fallen, and through no action of the Empire. According to a packet of mysterious subspace communications, nearly the entire Federation fleet had been wiped out in the process, along with a few major Klingon military bases. It was all too good to be true.

Not to mention that the source of information was dubious, to say the least. Some mysterious Romulan captain named Nero had done all this in the name of the Empire. She had never heard of a captain named Nero, or how anyone could accomplish the destruction of an entire planet. She doubted he was even Romulan. The potential complexity of his motives made her skin crawl.

Still, she felt they was moving too cautiously. After observing a thinly-populated region of Federation space for weeks the Senate finally granted her permission to strike. There had been no sign of patrol ships or even supply vessels. If Starfleet was as weak as they surmised, this area of the galaxy would soon be ripe for the taking. And Camilla would lead the charge.

"Captain Triaria," her communicator hummed to life, wrenching her from her thoughts. It was the voice of her second centurion.

"A Federation ship has just come out of warp and entered orbit."

Camilla arched an eyebrow. "And yet you're contacting me. You aren't cloaked?"

"No," came a hesitant reply. "We didn't detect them until they'd seen us."

"You will be disciplined," she said icily. "I trust I don't have to instruct you on strategic matters such as activating shields?"

"No, Captain. Shields are up, weapons systems ready. But they're hailing us, and a matter so delicate should be handled by the captain-"

"I fail to see what is so delicate about it. We are at war with the Federation, and one of their ships in your sights!" Camilla ground her teeth. The only reason she hadn't thrown this officer out of an airlock was that he had been "hand-picked" for her crew. By an influential relative of his.

"But Captain, the Senate has not made an official declaration. According to the hails it is a patrol vessel. I am not qualified to order an attack on a..."

She tuned him out so she could think. Oh, he would be disciplined. And perhaps not by her. He had let his guard down and now they lacked any element of surprise made available by their cloak.

"You are relieved, Centurion," she interrupted.

A moment. Then, "This is Third Centurion Kapal."

Camilla found that neither rank nor training could hold a candle to the value of an officer's obedience. Despite her second centurion's so-called "experience," any self-respecting lower-ranking officer would at least carry out her orders.

"What do their weapons systems look like?" she asked.

"Their defenses are substantial, but they appear to carry only low-grade phasers."

"Take them out," she said.

"Yes Captain," he obliged. There, that wasn't so hard.

The transmission cut out and combat ensued. Camilla squinted as she searched the sky. There they were. A few bursts of light indicated the orbital battle, though she could not see the ships themselves. She ran her fingers along her tightly woven black braids, as was her habit when nervous.

From the other end of the dock, First Centurion Balbus also scanned the sky. The captain was touching her hair , which meant something was wrong. His eyes failed to find the ships, however, as they lingered on her form. Despite the straight lines and squared-off shoulders of her uniform, the Captain's sleek feminine beauty was difficult to hide.

"Captain?" he inquired. She did not turn.

"Our ship is engaged with a Federation vessel," she said softly. "I fear our highly gifted second centurion has given away most of the tactical advantage. I should have left you in charge."

"I'm honored, Captain. But I must inform you... we just learned that one of the Humans managed to send out a distress call before the invasion."

"Oh?" Camilla spun to face him. "How long ago?"

"About an hour, sir."

Camilla paused and stared at the shoreline. "So the Federation ship responded to the call."

Balbus knew better than to reply when she spoke to herself. He was older than Camilla Triaria, though she had risen through the ranks quickly. He had watched her advance rapidly through intense mental discipline, yet she held a wild spark that he had fallen in love with.

Balbus knew from the start any advances on his part would earn him a cold response, or even a transfer order. So he had resolved to treat his duties to her with all the attentiveness and care of a lover. He had long suspected that she knew of his feelings. How could she not? Yet he was rewarded with her utmost trust as First Centurion. And he was satisfied enough with that.

Camilla spoke into her communicator again. "Status report."

Her words were greeted with heavy static and shouts. No reply.

"Status report," she repeated. More shouts. Something about photon torpedoes. Silence.

She looked to Balbus once more, about to bark a command, when five Humans materialized on the sand behind them. Camilla drew herself into a crouch and readied her phaser.

The Humans wore brightly colored uniforms that reminded her of colorful birds. How grotesquely arrogant, she thought. They must be easy to target on any planet. She took aim and fired at the brightest red garment she had ever seen.

It seemed to Kirk that ensign Stefanik went down the moment they materialized. He dodged just in time for more phaser fire to shriek harmlessly past his ears. Catching himself, he saw two humanoids at the end of a dock firing at his away team. Romulans, he assumed from his encounters with Nero. Though their uniforms were different from anything he had ever seen, and they had far more hair.

Kirk fired in their general direction, hoping to put them on the defensive. Instead, he managed to blast the phaser out of what could only be a female Romulan's hand. She shouted and charged at them. Spock stepped forward, took one shot, and she fell down cold.

The remaining Romulan screamed in anguish. Kirk realized he must think the female dead.

The second Romulan charged. Again, Spock took aim and felled the attacker. But he was larger, and the stun setting managed only half its job. The Romulan lay on his back, winded, but conscious.

Balbus turned his head to see Camilla's lifeless form next to his own. Shaking, he raised his fist in salute, respectful to the last.

"My Captain," he breathed. "I have failed you."

With that, he placed his phaser against his own head. And fired.


	2. Chapter 2: Praejudicium

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews and subscribes everybody!

**Chapter 2: Praejudicium**

"Balbus," Camilla whispered as she awoke. The last thing she remembered was the sound of the phaser blast. She knew by the hollow feeling in her heart that he was gone.

Cautiously, she sat upright. Where was she? Two humans in red shirts stood nearby. Both had their backs to her. Sliding herself to the floor, she approached them silently. She was startled to find her motion stopped short by a force field. They looked up from their work, alert but calm. Was she really so helpless that they were completely unafraid?

"For now," she muttered after a quick survey of the prison. Seeing her complacency, the Humans returned to their work.

So, Camilla thought, this is the inside of a Starfleet ship. Though she may not live to tell to the tale, the opportunity was not lost on her. She closed her eyes and listened to the hum of the engines. One, two, three, four... she counted the frequency of the drive. If she ever got out, she would report as much intelligence as she could gather.

As she was counting the door slid open to reveal two humanoids. She recognized them from the planet's surface. One, a human, wore a yellow shirt. The other wore bright blue, had pointed ears, and the unmistakably pallid expression of a Vulcan.

The Romulan stood at unflinching attention when Kirk entered the room. Though her eyes darted between him and Spock, Kirk could tell the Vulcan presence made her anxious. Kirk held up a hand and smiled, hoping she would take it as a sign of greeting.

"Hey there," the hand turned into a small wave. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise."

She glared at him. No reply, but her stance eased a bit.

Spock shook his head. "It is unlikely that she will speak to us."

Kirk glanced at his first officer. "At least give her a chance."

"Of course," Spock said. "But this is the first Romulan-Vulcan encounter since..." he paused for a moment. "The first encounter in modern history. If she ultimately refuses to speak we must take the opportunity to gather as much information as possible. A mind meld may be prudent."

A hair-raising shriek came from the cell. The Romulan's eyes blazed with fury at Spock.

"Let this force field down and just try it," she hissed. Spock did not blink. "Filthy Vulcan," she added as an afterthought.

Kirk attempted to calm the spooked security personnel. They reluctantly holstered their phasers.

"See?" Kirk muttered to Spock. "Told you she'd warm up to us. So..." he addressed her. "I'm not looking for much. Maybe you'd be willing to at least make some small talk?"

"Your threats don't frighten me, Human."

"Your actions speak to the contrary," Spock interjected.

Kirk frowned at Spock. Did he have to antagonize her like that? In her eyes the mind meld was a threat... and a very intimate one at that. He remembered the shock of his own meld with Spock's alternate self. Whatever intelligence they might glean from her, any opportunity for trust from this Romulan would be lost.

"Look," Kirk said quickly. "Nobody's going to hurt you while you're on my ship. However, you killed a number of civilians and attacked a Federation outpost. We _will_ be holding you until we get some answers."

"Then you will be holding me for some time."

"Actually, with any luck you should be out of here soon," Kirk rebutted cheerfully. "We've already reported your actions to the Romulan Empire."

She hesitated. Kirk waited for her to speak.

"My... actions? If you expect the Empire to apologize..."

"I would never ask them to apologize on your behalf," Kirk said, leaning on the brig terminal.

Camilla could not decide which officer she disliked more. The Vulcan infuriated her, yes, but the Human made her feel uneasy. She sensed a great deal of duplicity from this one, though he did little to hide it. She hated this kind of mind game. On her ship, information would be forced from weak prisoners and the rest would be disposed of. She wished they would just get it over with.

But if he wanted to play, she could play.

"You want ME to apologize? Very well then," she said sweetly. "Sorry. But I refuse to beg for my life in some Starfleet trial. I'm sure they're as pathetic as the races you Humans choose to associate with."

Again, that Human smiled! He was too young to be so confident... no, confident was the wrong word for it. Cocky.

"This isn't quite what I had in mind by small talk," the Human named Kirk said. He shoved off from his perch and stood eye to eye with her so only the force field was between them.

Camilla resisted the urge to strike at him.

"And what _did_ you have in mind?" she seethed.

"Well, I've told you my name. I'd settle for yours in return."

Camilla scoffed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I need to know what to call you," Kirk said casually.

Again, she hesitated.

"My name is Captain Camilla Triaria."

Kirk nodded. "Well, Captain Camilla Triaria, meet my first officer Spock..." he gestured.

"Pleasure," she said between gritted teeth.

Kirk looked to Spock. He simply stared at her. No, he was completely locking eyes, matching the intensity of her gaze. If Kirk didn't know any better, he would think that the Vulcan was actually trying to provoke her. He decided it was time to give it a rest. He thanked Camilla for her time and followed Spock out of the brig.

Despite her obvious disdain for Vulcans and Humans, the mere thought of a mind meld seemed to terrify her. And that fear held stronger than any force field they could produce. The threat of melding might even get her to talk, though he disliked the idea.

Kirk realized he was standing alone in the corridor. Spock had taken off the moment they exited the brig. Something was up, no doubt about that. Kirk resolved to speak to his commander before they went near the prisoner again.

* * *

It was an overcast day in the city of Boston, Massachusetts, USA – Earth. Admiral Mercer watched the weather ticker as he waited for his interview. The ticker apologetically announced some previously unscheduled rain showers.

Mercer shook his head. No matter what the National Bureau of Climate Control tried, the Earth's ecosystem remained ever-changing and organic. Sure, they could regulate rain and sun from one day to the next, but when it came to long-term consequences, humanity held a tiger by the tail.

Out of nowhere, a flurry of makeup artists swarmed Mercer. He waved his hands in protest.

"No- no makeup! I am not one of your eye-candy reporters!"

"But sir!" a particularly brave intern cried. "Your face. It's..." he hesitated. "It's shiny. It won't look good on camera."

The crew held their collective breath as Mercer stared skeptically at the young man. He had never much cared for televised news broadcasts. Too much emphasis on celebrities and the sensational. But ever since the attack on Earth they had re-emerged as popular information sources, and Starfleet needed the public support.

"Fine. But just you. And-" he held up a finger in warning, "just the basics."

The intern worked quickly as the others dispersed, nearly jumping out of his skin as the studio doors burst open. In strode a leggy, dark-haired woman in a green power suit. She flashed a flawless smile at Mercer, approaching him for a handshake. The intern scuttled out of the way.

"Miss Beaudreau, I presume," Mercer took her outstretched hand. Her smile broadened at the recognition, though there was hardly a citizen of Earth who couldn't pick her out in a crowd. Estelle Beaudreau's face could be found on any city billboard. An exotic mix of alpha-female and idealized physical beauty, she was the star reporter of her station.

"Admiral Mercer," she beamed. "It's always an honor to hear from our forces in the stars. Please, make yourself comfortable... we'll be starting in two minutes."

She sat down in the chair next to him and let the flock of makeup artists descend on her. The camera operators locked two tripods into their marked positions. For some viewers, the viewpoint would switch from one camera to the other as the interview took place. But for most, the broadcast would be seen as a 3D hologram, so the placement of each camera had to be precise.

Estelle began the interview with the media's usual diplomatic gratitude towards the military. With the memory of the attack so fresh, it was all Mercer had heard lately. But he was optimistic that this reporter's reputation might let her play Devil's advocate with him. Which was exactly what they needed.

"So, Admiral Mercer," she asked at last. "With our strongest allies, the Vulcans, all but destroyed... what does the future hold for the exploration of space? Can we really afford to fund the reconstruction of a long-range, primarily exploratory fleet?"

"I don't think the United Federation of Planets can afford _not_ to fund further exploration-"

"Excuse me," she cut him off with a tone of tactful concern. "But you must let me rephrase. Can _Earth_ really afford to spend so much of its resources on such a fleet? Defense experts are saying that the Romulans are now the single greatest military power in the quadrant. Shouldn't we be building up local defenses, within the borders of our own solar system?"

Mercer shook his head. "If you know your history, the Federation was formed in response to the Earth-Romulan war. Our allies – all of them – desire protection from Romulan forces. It is in _everyone's_ best interest that we reconstruct and maintain Starfleet. If Earth doesn't put in its share, there will be no allied cavalry arriving when we need it most."

"Yes, of course," she nodded sympathetically. "Earth is now the strongest member of the Federation. But shouldn't we first and foremost be protecting ourselves?"

There it was. The public attitude Mercer had been sent to flush out. We have no business exploring the galaxy. Watch out for our own. If they can destroy one planet, why not another?

Of course, Mercer knew that the Romulans didn't possess that particular bit of technology. Ironically enough, it had been developed by the Vulcans. But that was off in another timeline, and top secret knowledge in this one.

"Again, the options become clear when you look at the history of Earth-Romulan conflict. If we focus on short-term, short-range defenses, they will merely regroup and return in greater numbers. If other planets fall to the Romulan Empire, their resources can only increase." Mercer lowered his voice. "The Romulans only ever backed down when their home planet was threatened. If they don't see us as a galactic superpower, diplomatic relations will be impossible."

Estelle nodded, tapping her pencil against her lips in thought. "So you believe we may need to threaten Romulus itself?"

"That is a question I'm not prepared to answer," Mercer chuckled. "Not today."

After the interview was through, Estelle abandoned her colder, more critical interview demeanor and was all smiles again. She thanked the Admiral for his time, clutching his hand, touching his arm, and melting him with her green eyes. As she breezed out of the room with assistants at her heels, Mercer resolved to take up dating again. It had been too long since he had been in a relationship, and Estelle's power over his… _feelings_… disturbed him. Of course, no one in Starfleet had time for romance, especially at his rank. And what woman would want a man with his hours?

"Sir," a young officer interrupted his thoughts. "We have an encrypted subspace transmission waiting for you in a secure facility."

"Oh?" Mercer stared out the studio windows at the Charles River. The rain had started to fall.

"From whom?" he asked at last.

"Captain Kirk."


	3. Chapter 3: Alethia

**A/N:** Hey guys, sorry this chapter's so short. It was this or nothing 'til the weekend. It's supposed to be a rainy one, so odds are pretty good I'll be cooped up inside!

**Chapter 3: Alethia**

Mercer's face materialized on Kirk's ready room view screen. Kirk couldn't help but notice he looked older than the last time they had spoken... what, two months ago? Kirk scratched his chin and wondered how long before time started making its mark on his own features.

"Admiral," Kirk smiled. "I sent in my report but I just couldn't wait for the grades to post."

Mercer chortled. Kirk had been one of his favorite cadets at the academy. But it was no secret that Mercer was one of the few teachers who never gave Kirk top marks.

"Well well, Jim Kirk," Mercer shook his head. "I never thought I'd have to call you Captain."

"Didn't think you'd live to see the day?" Kirk grinned.

"Somehow I didn't think _you_ would live to see the day." Mercer held up a data pad before Kirk could parry his verbal jab. "I read your report. Very interesting."

"About that," Kirk began. "I think we should orchestrate a 'routine meeting' with a few other 'patrol' ships. If we send Captain Triaria back to Romulus with that kind of intelligence and an offer of goodwill from Starfleet, they might just come around. Or at least leave the Federation alone."

"I'm not sure Starfleet is ready to risk bluffing our way out of this conflict," Mercer said as he set the report on his desk. "Several strategies for dealing with the Romulans are still under review. The attack on Tarracina... well, it complicates things."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "And how long will these plans be under review? We have an opportunity to get to know a Romulan face-to-face over here. From our own time line. On our terms. In case Starfleet's forgotten, that's never happened before."

"Jim," Mercer sighed, shifting in his seat. "I hope you realize how grave this situation is. Your strategic prowess has proven outstanding for short-term combat scenarios. But Starfleet needs your full cooperation if we're going to stand a chance in the upcoming war."

"Which is exactly why I'm trying to prevent one."

"Jim..." Mercer began. "Vulcan is gone. Our options – and time – are limited. People on Earth are scared-"

"The Romulans who destroyed Vulcan were from another time line!" Kirk interrupted. "Sure, this one ship attacked an outpost. But it could have been a fluke. Or maybe they're just testing the waters. We can't hold an entire race responsible for something they haven't done yet!"

"_I know_, Jim, I know," Mercer sympathized. "But how many people died on Tarracina? And what's going to happen when news reaches Earth? There are... certain things going on right now. Things I can't talk about here, even over an encrypted connection."

"Fine," Kirk threw up his hands. "So what would Starfleet have me do?"

"Your orders are to interrogate the prisoner. Commander Spock is your first officer, right? Have him gather as much intelligence from her as he can. We could really use it right now."

"That's not going to work," Kirk said. "I don't think she likes him very much."

"But he can use the Vulcan mind-meld, right?"

"There is no way we can expect any kind of diplomatic relations after that course of action."

Mercer chuckled dryly. "Diplomatic relations with that particular Romulan, you mean. For all the Empire knows, she died in a battle on Tarracina."

Kirk's fists clenched under the table.

"Are you suggesting we force the information and kill her?"

Mercer shook his head. "Not me. But don't be too surprised if the order comes down the line. Things are changing in Starfleet." He paused, then: "I won't dictate how you interrogate her. By all means, work miracles if you can. But work them quickly. Godspeed. Mercer out."

* * *

"Careful, it's sharp," Uhura said as she held out a chunk of metal.

"Thanks," Chekov smiled and took it. He had always admired the communications officer for her expertise and work ethic. Now, as they sorted through debris from the Romulan vessel, he was thrilled to learn how nice she could be.

"Theese looks like a piece of the hull," he said, reading the display on his tricorder.

Uhura nodded, already inspecting a second, smaller piece. Her eyes lit up. She muttered several alien-sounding syllables under her breath as she turned the artifact in her hands.

"Find somezing?" Chekov asked cheerily.

"Something about... 'under,' or 'secret'," she pointed out an inscription. "I'm not entirely sure."

Over her shoulder, Chekov saw Spock slip into the science lab.

"Sir!" Chekov stood at attention, putting a good yard between himself and Uhura. Even his young ears had not missed rumors of the Human-Vulcan relationship, and the last thing he wanted was to elicit the First Officer's disfavor.

Spock nodded in acknowledgment, but remained silent. His eyes darted to the back of Uhura's head. She continued to mutter under her breath, focused on the tiny letters. Spock began to carefully make his way across the lab.

"Chekov, any idea what this thing does?" Uhura asked.

"Uh..." Chekov returned to the task at hand. He hummed thoughtfully as he ran the tricorder over the part. "Eet appears to be a manipulator of some kind of subatomic particles."

"Subatomic..." she repeated to herself. "Under? Small? Under-sized?" She squinted at the inscription, then held it at a distance.

She sighed shortly and turned to the computer console behind her. Spock froze in place, a data pad in hand and eyes on Uhura. She still didn't notice him.

"Sir, do you need help with anything?" Chekov asked across the room. Spock shook his head.

"Chekov, I need you to pay attention," Uhura snapped. Chekov apologized and stood at her side. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Spock make his way to the door.

"Subterfuge!" Uhura cried at last. She grinned at Chekov. "I'm sorry, you know how it is when the word is just on the tip of your tongue..." she trailed off as her eyes finally settled on Spock's back as he walked out the door.

"Sir!" she barked.

Spock halted. He turned slowly.

"Lieutenant," he replied, nodding so deeply it was almost a bow. "I apologize for disturbing your work."

"No... apology... necessary," she growled. "May I have a word with you?"

He glanced at Chekov. "Of course."

"In private?"

Spock hesitated.

"Ensign," Uhura said, "Proceed without me. I'll be back shortly."

Spock followed her reluctantly into the science lab conference room. He had hoped to delay this... conversation until they were both off duty. She shut the door and turned to him, expression set in anger.

"What do you wish to discuss?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I know," she said in a low, dangerous tone. "What would you want to discuss if I started avoiding you without a word?"

Spock considered the question before realizing it was rhetorical.

"I apologize," he said. "It is no reflection on you. I have been mentally unprepared for encounters such as we have. Much has been on my mind and I require further meditation."

"Oh," Uhura rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. So you need alone time. Well that's fine... but can't you at least let me _know_ before you change your duty shifts to avoid mine?"

"That would have been difficult. You would not have been satisfied with a simple answer."

"Damn right," Uhura fumed.

"Your line of questioning would have led to the very issues which I must face."

"And what's wrong with that?" she asked. "You either face them or you don't."

He thought he saw a tear forming in her wide eyes, but she blinked and it was gone.

Spock sighed. "As usual, you are right." He reached for her, but she turned away. Sighing, she made her way to the conference room windows to watch the sun rising over Tarracina.

Spock studied the curve of her shoulders and noted they were quivering slightly. She was not crying – he knew she was too upset at him for that. Unlike the Romulan, however, Uhura maintained her dignity in anger.

That Romulan. _Camilla_. Even in his mind he heard himself pronounce the words with distaste. No matter how he tried to forget, her sneering face plagued the fringes of his conscious thought. The idea of melding with such a creature repulsed him, yet he was sure Starfleet would give the order sooner or later. The only consolation he could manage was that she was equally disturbed at the prospect.

These thoughts, however, were irrational. Taking pleasure in another beings suffering was illogical, and worse, the very root of cruelty. Spock shuddered at his own thoughts and joined Uhura in her observation the planet below

"You have been exceedingly patient with me," he tried again. "My mother never vocalized any... difficulties with my father, but I have seen how thoughtless acts devoid of emotion can affect a woman."

He kept his voice steady, though the thought of his mother still caused a swell of grief in his already unstable core.

"Oh Spock..." Uhura turned to him, seeming to sense the shift in his pain. "I'm sorry for getting so angry." She took his hands in her own and smiled. "Well, sort of."

He mentally flinched at her touch. The physical contact evoked emotions that eroded his self-control. As she wrapped herself around him, he gave in at last and pulled her close, perhaps squeezing a bit too tight. She didn't protest, though. A strange kind of peace settled over him as he found the eye of his mental storm in her arms.

A tap-tap on the conference room door thrust him out of the momentary lull. The two jumped away from another as Chekov burst through the door, waving the Romulan artifact about in triumph.

"Uhura!" he grinned, oblivious to his interruption. "I know what it eez! We've recovered a cloaking device!"


	4. Chapter 4: Quid Pro Nihil

**Chapter 4: Quid Pro Nihil**

"I'm telling you Jim, she's a complete savage," the ship's doctor muttered.

Kirk shifted in his chair. He always got a little uncomfortable when McCoy talked like this. The doctor had been irritated by a volley of cool, anti-Human insults from Camilla as he performed her medical examination. Actually, Kirk found it rather funny. She knew how to find and press buttons, he had to give her that.

"But Bones, she's being held prisoner. I'm sure we'd do the same."

McCoy shook his head. "You're probably right. But at least we don't conquer races we deem 'inferior'."

"Captain!" Chekov shouted as the turbolift door opened. Uhura and Spock followed close behind. "Captain, we've recovered something from the debris."

Chekov proudly held out his hand. In it lay a small component from the Romulan ship.

"It appears to be some kind of cloaking device, sir."

Kirk noted the inscription and looked to Uhura.

"The markings confirm it," she said.

"Excellent work," he said. "Both of you." Chekov beamed.

"Captain, I highly recommend testing this device," Spock broke in quietly. "By activating it we may learn methods of detecting Romulan ships if they are cloaked."

"Now wait a minute," Kirk said. "The treaty prohibits the Federation from using cloaking technology."

"Yes..." Uhura said, giving Spock a sidelong glance. "But I don't think it says anything about anti-cloaking technology."

Kirk nodded and Chekov took off with his new prize. Uhura and Spock headed for the turbolift.

"Spock," Kirk said, taking him aside. "I've contacted Starfleet."

"Oh?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"They want us to get as much information from her as we can... within reason. No need for your special abilities yet."

Spock nodded. Kirk saw him relax a bit.

"Still, I want you to get to know her. Escort her to some guest quarters. And try to make her feel at ease."

The tension returned immediately.

"Captain," Spock said in a low voice. "With all due respect, I don't think I am the best officer for that task."

"Spock, I know she's a bit... abrasive... but I'm counting on you to be the adult here. Don't provoke her. Let her do the talking. If she does, great. If not, at least you've given it a chance."

"Of course," Spock nodded slowly. "If she asks, has the 'Empire' gotten back to us yet?"

It was Kirk's turn to bristle. "No, Starfleet thinks we should hold off on contacting them."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Kirk shook his head. "If it comes up... make something up."

"That," Spock said, "Is precisely why Vulcans do not lie."

* * *

Spock entered the brig with a feeling of dread. Somehow he expected to find the Romulan exactly as he'd left her – snarling and glaring at him. Instead, he saw only her thick, gray uniform jacket on the cell bench.

The Romulan herself was on the floor, hands tucked behind her head. She wore a thin sleeveless garment and heavy uniform pants as she executed crunches in rapid succession. Her eyes were shut in concentration, though her features were without strain. With the peaceful expression and long black hair he could almost imagine she was Vulcan. Only the slight bony ridge at her brow gave her away.

Spock cleared his throat and her eyes snapped open. Camilla was on her feet.

"The Captain has instructed me to show you to your quarters," Spock got out before she could challenge him again.

She didn't reply, but scrutinized his expression as he lowered the force field. Spock ordered the guards to follow at a distance and guard the door when they arrived.

"So, I've gone from a prisoner to a prisoner under pretenses," Camilla smirked as they made their way through the ship. Her eyes flitted between every detail of the ship's design and function.

"Perhaps," Spock replied. When he reached her new "quarters" he intentionally turned his back to her as he entered, to show he did not consider her a threat.

"Vulcans," she muttered, following him. The door hissed shut behind her.

The room was small but very comfortable. Certainly more comfortable than a cell in the brig. Camilla scoffed at the luxury of it all as Spock showed her the food synthesizer and shower.

"If you need anything, guards will be stationed outside your door at all times," Spock said and made his way to the door.

"There's something different about you, isn't there?" Camilla stepped between him and the exit. "Yes, you're different from the others..." she continued to scan his features. He could almost feel her probing gaze on his face, like the hot breath of a large beast. He averted his eyes and waited patiently for her to let him by.

"I am the only Vulcan on a Human starship," he said simply.

"No..." she narrowed her eyes. "You're not."

"And why do you say that?" he met her stare with an equally cold expression.

"Because as irritating as you are, your control over your emotions is weak. And your actions around the Captain are just shy of the dull obedience one would expect... of a Vulcan."

Suddenly, she launched herself at Spock. He cried out in surprise as she took his wrist and twisted him cruelly to the floor, shoving her knee into the small of his back. Her arm wrapped around his neck, blocking his airway enough to keep him from shouting to the guards.

Spock tried in vain to relax his body. Her grip grew stronger as he struggled, which only infuriated him more. He felt himself slipping into a rage not unlike the blood fever of pon farr, except he wanted to tear this particular female to pieces.

"Now, _Romulan_..." she whispered softly into his ear. "Tell me who you work for. If you're lucky, I'll try _really hard _not to blow your cover."

He felt the pressure on his throat ease up just enough for him to whisper.

"I'll kill you," he snarled.

She tightened again, constricting all airflow to his lungs. He struggled harder, feeling himself sinking into the mind-trap of suffocation. The floor before his eyes became hazy, turning prickly shades of gray and red.

Spock felt the life slip from him and conscious thought come to a grinding halt. He lay there, merely existing in the void. He thought he could see Uhura's face. She beckoned sadly. The vision faded, blinking into existence with each faltering beat of his heart.

A thousand shards of pain brought him back to the world as air gushed into his lungs. Camilla had allowed him to breathe. She kept her arm over his mouth as he coughed, muffling the sound. His vision returned and he saw the reason for her strength... lean muscle rippled under her toned skin.

"If you really are a Vulcan, explain yourself," she said wryly. She shifted her full weight to her knee.

"Human," Spock whispered. "Half... Human..."

The weight let up a bit.

"Half-Human?" she said with a tinge of distaste. And perhaps... fear? "That's impossible."

"Father... ambassador... to Humans. Mother... Human."

She placed her free hand on his forehead and searched for any trace of a Romulan brow structure. Finding none, she released him. He coughed again, watching Camilla's feet make their way to the window. There she paused.

Spock pulled himself from the floor, the gathering maelstrom of his emotions forming a vacuum of fury in his chest. Camilla's back was to him. Adrenaline surged through his body and rage overtook logic. Before he could stop himself, he rushed her, twisting her arm into a hold of his own. She gasped, body tensing as he pulled her close.

A distant part of him screamed not to do this, not to sink to this level. But the excitement from the trembling body in his grasp was too palpable for him to hear the warning. She felt like... prey.

"Now, _Romulan_..." he mocked her malicious whisper. "Let's talk about you."

"Ahh-ahhh!" she whimpered as he twisted harder. He felt the bones in her forearm nearing the limits of their flexibility. Despite the pain, she laughed under her breath.

"It seems you and I are more alike than I thought. Fear not, half-Vulcan, it disgusts me just as much as it disgusts you." With that, she brought her foot down hard on Spock's toes. The shock caused him to relax his grip for a moment – and that was enough. She tackled him and they landed with a thud.

Spock felt the heavy impact of the floor against his skull. His head swam. He was dimly aware of the Romulan on top of him, dimly aware that she had to be subdued. He grabbed onto whatever he could and rolled, using the weight of his body to keep her under control as his vision cleared.

As Spock held her by the wrists, Camilla kept running it through her head. She had been certain he was a Romulan spy. He was nothing like the Vulcans she'd studied in the historical records. Vulcans were arrogant, yes, but expressed their pride through words, not action. They simply did not fight.

But this... Spock! He was an entirely new breed altogether. The ambitious, passionate nature of a human mixed with the intelligence and strength of a Vulcan. Through some perverted fluke of luck, he had acquired the best qualities of each race.

Now that she thought about it, she rather liked him.

"So, Spock," she crooned softly to the dazed man above her. "Where do we go from here?"

Spock focused on her face, realizing she was no longer resisting. Now that she lay beneath him, large eyes veiled by the lashes of her half-drawn lids, he wasn't sure what he'd intended to do.

Camilla lifted her nose to his shoulders and took in his scent. She wondered what sort of being might result from mating this beast to her Romulan sense of discipline and drive. She parted her lips, grazing his neck with her teeth. She felt his body shudder above her.

A synthesized chime came from the door. Spock leaped to his feet, releasing her.

Camilla followed suit, brushing herself off. She grabbed Spock by the arm before he could answer the call.

"Let's keep this little spat to ourselves then, shall we?"

Horrified, he nodded. Camilla placed herself neatly upon a chair.

The chime came again. "Enter," Spock said, quickly wiping the sweat from his brow.

Kirk stepped cautiously into the arch of the doorway, a small box in his hands. "Is everything alright?"

"The Romulan has shown no interest in speaking to me. I respectfully request that you do not ask me to interact with Captain Triaria further."

"Spock-" Kirk began.

"Good day," Spock strode past him and out the doorway.

"Spock!" Kirk shouted after him. Spock halted. As Kirk caught up he noticed his first officer was trembling. Kirk waited for him to catch his breath.

"Jim, I cannot do this. I... _hate_... Romulans," he confessed. "Hatred is illogical, I know. Hatred for an entire race is more than illogical... it is a sin against the universe. But I must have the opportunity to deal with this... at a distance... from _her_."

"Spock..." Kirk forced him to look into his eyes. He could tell the contact was torture, so he kept his voice soft. "I'm really sorry. I had no idea."

Spock nodded. He shut his eyes and took a slow breath. Kirk put his hand on the Vulcan's back and patted him gently. "Get some rest, huh?"

"Thank you, Captain." They composed themselves as an ensign passed by. "I will."

Kirk entered Camilla's quarters with some trepidation. But she sat right where he had left her, waiting patiently for his return. She observed his every move as he took the chair across from her.

"Captain, let me make this easier on both of us. I understand what you're doing. And it won't work."

"Do you now?" he smiled, removing a thin bottle of sky blue liquid from the box. Camilla's eyes betrayed her astonishment.

"Is that...?" she trailed off. Kirk nodded.

"Romulan ale. It was a gift from the former Captain of the Enterprise."

Of course, Camilla thought. How could she be so naïve. A trade embargo was only as strong as its enforcement, and smugglers were a constant in the universe. She wondered what sort of intelligence might slip through the cracks about her home world as well.

Kirk procured two empty glasses and poured a substantial amount into each one. Camilla quirked an eyebrow.

"So is this your grand plan, then? Get me drunk and hope I talk?"

"Yes," Kirk smiled, raising his glass.

She took the other. If there was poison, so be it. They had little to gain from her death. And she had less to lose.

Each took a sip. Kirk immediately coughed and sputtered.

"Good luck out-drinking a Romulan," Camilla laughed. "Our mothers feed this to their children to cure tooth-ache."

Kirk grinned in reply. He placed the glass to his lips and drained it in a few short gulps.

"Just warming up. Now we can start." He poured himself a second round.

They finished the small bottle quickly, with sparse conversation. The Human held his liquor well. As the elixir worked its way through her blood stream, Camilla found herself impressed by the vintage as well as the man.

"So, now that I'm drunk, maybe you'll talk?" Kirk slurred as he attempted to replace the bottle in the box.

"It doesn't matter," Camilla shook her head, immediately regretting the dizziness that followed. "We know what happened to your fleet at Vulcan."

"Oh?" he said, finally getting the bottle into its spot. "And is that _all_ you know?"

"Wouldn't you like to know..." she smiled, unwittingly twisting a finger through one of her braids.

"Camilla... Cam... can I call you Cam? We're not so different, you know."

She smirked. "I suppose not."

"So why can't we co-exist in such a vast universe? If we keep going down this path we'll end up right where we were a hundred years ago."

"Except this time, we'll have the upper hand. And there will be no treaty."

"Are you so sure of that? The Federation is made up of allies. And the stronger the Empire becomes the more races will flock to fight you."

Camilla sneered. "I've heard this argument before. It's popular with weaker members of the Senate. You don't know what our military can do. And it doesn't matter what you and I discuss here. It doesn't even matter what that Vulcan draws from my mind. Go down any path and you'll find our victory awaiting you, Human."

"Please, call me Jim," Kirk muttered.

Camilla felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. Damn him. Arguing under the influence always did this to her. He continued to pry about the Senate, only ceasing when she spoke. She found herself giving in simply for the sake of shutting him up. A very clever method of torture indeed.

When it became clear they were both beyond "intelligibleness" according to Kirk, he thanked her for a lovely evening and stumbled out of her quarters. Camilla decided she didn't mind the comfortable Starfleet bed after all, and sank into a dreamless oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5: Tempestas

**A/N:** Sorry this took awhile. Stupid life.

**Chapter 5: Tempestas**

Mercer watched the stars come into focus as the U.S.S. Palmer dropped out of warp. He closed his eyes and listened to the impulse engines as they hummed to life.

The Palmer was a good ship. Small and overlooked, she had been docked for repairs and between captains during the battle at Vulcan. It was one of the older warp-capable ships in the fleet, and was now destined for some great experiment.

"Oh, my..." Estelle gasped from the other side of the room. "Admiral, you have to see this..."

Mercer walked obediently to her side. He cursed Starfleet as he admired her figure from behind. She had been appointed by some politician on Earth to accompany him as part of a new "transparency initiative." A useless bit of political theater, as far as he could tell.

She spoke softly into her datapad as Mercer stared out the window at Starbase 8. He noticed two large disks had been attached to the station by long, thin wires.

"What are they?" Estelle asked.

"I'm not sure," Mercer replied. "Part of the experiment, I imagine."

The ship docked and the two were greeted by a very charismatic Admiral Grobi. Although younger than Mercer, he had risen through the ranks quickly. Estelle beamed as he shook her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Admiral Grobi... I'm dying of curiosity. What is this whole experiment about?"

Grobi chuckled. "Head right down this way and we'll give you the grand tour."

As Estelle followed an escort down the corridor, Grobi put a large hand on Mercer's shoulder and shook him good-naturedly.

"Grobi," Mercer nodded with a reluctant smile. Grobi laughed and smacked him on the back, motioning in Estelle's direction.

"Nice travel companion, huh?"

Mercer shook his head. "For a short trip."

"Oh come on, where's that famous Beaudreau-Mercer chemistry?"

Mercer raised an eyebrow.

"Your interview! You're famous now, y'know. Practically the voice of Starfleet. Lord knows the media hasn't been interested in us for years."

Mercer contemplated this depressing thought as they followed Estelle to the observation deck. A team of science officers and an elderly Vulcan awaited them. Mercer immediately recognized him from his classified briefing documents as Abassador Spock. Grobi introduced him.

"This is Xon of Vulcan. Without his insight, this project would not have been possible. Xon, this is Estelle Beaudreau and Admiral Mercer."

Estelle shook his hand reverently and muttered that it was an honor.

Mercer raised an eyebrow, nodding to "Xon" in greeting.

"Admiral Mercer," Spock said in return. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

"You as well," Mercer said, but kept comment to himself. He suspected Estelle would sense verbal duplicity, and if the Vulcan wished to operate under a pseudonym it was not up to Mercer to expose him.

"So what is this great new technology Starfleet has been working so hard on?" Estelle gestured to the sweeping view before them.

"This," Grobi said, "Is the future of space travel." He pointed to the pads in orbit around the station. "Said in three words? Long distance transportation."

Mercer blinked in shock and Estelle gaped. Her datapad re-appeared and she began typing notes.

"But will it cost more than dilithium warp travel? Can a transporter buffer really handle the data for an entire ship? Is the Palmer the first to go through?"

Grobi chuckled. "You do your research. I see why they appointed a reporter to this position. I'll defer you to Xon – he really is the mastermind behind it all. Xon, why don't you give her the grand tour while I debrief Mercer on his voyage?"

"Of course," Spock said. Estelle grinned as he led her out of the room. The other officers dispersed to their work, leaving Grobi and Mercer alone.

"So, what do you think?" Grobi asked.

"Of?"

"Instantaneous space travel! It's revolutionary, no?"

Mercer smiled and shook his head. "I'd say I have the same doubts as Miss Beaudreau."

Grobi studied Mercer's face for a moment.

"Always the cynic. Well, good. We'll be needing that skepticism soon. I have something else I'd like you to see." Grobi led Mercer to a conference room and gestured that he go first. Mercer stepped in and felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. A heavily-armored Klingon sat at the other end of the table.

"Mercer..." Grobi steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "This is Captain Zargin, son of Thol. Zargin... this is the admiral."

Zargin stood, thumping his chest in salute. Mercer gave a slight, rigid nod in greeting. The door shut behind Grobi, and Mercer knew he could not leave until they were done with him.

Grobi spoke first.

"Zargin has also been of great help in developing the new... device."

"I hope you won't take offense," Mercer said carefully, "when I say I'm shocked to meet a Klingon aboard a Starfleet station."

"And I am equally shocked to be here." Zargin smirked. "But the strength of our common enemy demands it."

Grobi sighed. "Mercer, for as long as I've known you, your instincts have been solid. We need them now. But what I'm about to tell you must not leave this room."

Mercer nodded.

"The device _will_ work for long-range transport. The energy requirements are enormous, but it works."

"And this gives us a tactical advantage against the Romulans?" Mercer asked.

The Klingon laughed.

"Better than that." Grobi leaned in close. "We've developed a way to destroy Romulus itself."

Mercer stared at his long-time superior.

"You can't be serious," Mercer said. "I've read the reports. There's no way to develop red matter that quickly."

"But that's the beauty of it!" Grobi said. "We've bypassed that entire arms race. The Romulan sun is already dying. We know it's due for a supernova in a few centuries. We've just found a way to speed up the process."

Mercer realized that the Klingon's hand was resting on a weapon. Mercer's loyalty was being tried, and his life was the reward for passing that test.

"What do you need me for?" Mercer asked.

"We need to know what the governments of Earth would do. How they'll react. If the Vulcans will act out against us. And every other scenario we haven't thought of yet. This weapon wasn't developed from the top down, through some legal proposal. It never would have cleared the red tape."

Mercer needed a way out, to buy some time, to think.

"You want my gut instinct? A weapon this big, this... _God-like_... will be divisive. It will create extremists on every side." The Klingon tightened the grasp on his weapon. Mercer put up a hand. "As for me, I'd say it's about time. A planet for a planet."

The Klingon relaxed. A bit. Grobi smiled again.

"I want you to run political simulations on how it could play out. Use as much of the station's resources as you need... I'll tell the commander we're running tests on the transporter."

"How many people know about this?" Mercer asked.

Zargin rose from his seat. "Enough that if you betray us you will regret it."

"Now Zargin," Grobi said. "I've known Admiral Mercer for years. He understands the threat Romulus poses against us all..." he locked eyes with Mercer, "and I'm certain he would not jeopardize the security of the Federation."

"Thank you for your trust," Mercer nodded. "Both of you. I'll do my best with the simulations. But I'm certain history will be the best judge any of us can hope for."

* * *

Camilla tried desperately to memorize the shield modulation display before her, but the numbers simply would not stick. As piece after piece of valuable Federation intelligence passed before her eyes, it was all she could do to suppress her own nausea.

Kirk, however, was fine. She suspected that son-of-a-Klingon doctor had given him something to ease the hangover. He chattered endlessly about protocol, repair routines, and useless treaty statutes.

He was taunting her.

Well, she would show him. Her memory might be too queasy for much use, but her body still obeyed commands. She would be patient.

Her chance came when a young engineer turned away from his tricorder. She leaned casually on his workstation, pretending to listen to Kirk, and slipped it into her sleeve right under his nose. Now all she had to do was wait for some alone time in her quarters.

Spock watched the Romulan's tour of engineering with a disapproving scowl. Even on the tiny screen in his quarters, Camilla's image filled him with dread.

Yet his own feelings were hidden from him. Although he had recognized his nebulous prejudice, it had effectively cloaked emotional responses as logic. The two were getting harder and harder to tell apart.

The door chimed and Spock flinched. Uhura. He quickly deactivated the display before letting her in. When she looked at him, Spock felt naked before her large, intelligent eyes. The guilt he felt was so potent he thought he could feel it on his face.

"Nyota-" he began. She put a finger to his lips.

Uhura gently pushed him into a chair and followed, straddling him. She cradled his head in one hand and smoothed back his hair with the other, gazing into his eyes. Spock once more felt the urge to simply let go of self-control and be led by feelings of the moment.

"This is becoming a bad habit," he muttered.

Uhura raised an eyebrow in question. Spock realized she had picked up the gesture from him, as it was quite Vulcan in its subtlety. He considered, then smiled at her, returning one adopted expression for another. She did not return the smile, but stared at his uniform in thought. He touched her face, running his fingers along her cheek.

"Spock..." she said, gently grabbing his wrist and holding him there. She moved his fingers into place. "Talking can only take us so far. You can't even see your own thoughts. You need my help."

Spock's heart suddenly beat faster, harder. She locked eyes with him and he felt the impulse to flee.

Uhura hesitated at the clear expression of fear. Spock had always been a pillar of strength in her world, and seeing him so vulnerable still caught her off guard. Since the moment she'd met him, she had dreamed of mind-melding with the man. All of her life she had searched for truth and meaning in language. She knew instinctively that communication in the universal medium of thought would be unlike anything she had experienced so far.

And yet, she hesitated. Uhura did not love Spock simply for his telepathic abilities. She knew he wasn't just some test for her to ace, but an intimate mentor and close friend she would be lost without. Still, she couldn't help but second-guess her motives in, perhaps, taking advantage of the moment?

"And this is why you are always such a fascinating student," Spock said, interrupting her thoughts. "It is your curiosity, not your passion, that drives you to the point of recklessness."

"But..." she pulled away so he was no longer touching her face. Had he read her mind without the incantation? He shook his head at her surprise to indicate no, he had not. He stroked her leg, but she rose, seating herself in the other chair and resting her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up."

He waited in silence.

"It's just..." she looked to him. How to say this. "Your arranged marriage is... well, you're free. To bond with whomever you wish."

He nodded.

"I can help you sort through it all," she went on. "Your thoughts."

"Vulcan emotions are-"

"Strong, yes," she glared at the floor. "So am I. You know it. There's another reason you're avoiding this."

"Uhura, I appreciate what you are trying to do for me, but-"

Her eyes bored into him with sudden suspicion.

"What are you hiding from me?"

The question was like a vice around his neck, forcing him to look where he had been avoiding. He shuddered as the floor swam, and his stomach lurched with nausea.

"Irrational hatred," Spock's voice wavered. Uhura watched him subdue a tremor. "And lust. For another."

The words smacked Uhura harder than any physical blow. In all of her theorizing she had never thought of this possibility. It simply had not occurred to her. The shock of it threw her unprepared emotions so far out of place that they reeled back into a cold, sadistic anger.

"Well," she said, "I suppose you were right."

"Nyota..." he began. "I'm sorry."

"No, really. I don't know how you do it. It must come from being so emotionally detached. You can look truth in the eye and it can't hurt you. Feelings can't even _touch_ you."

"Nyota. I _love_ you." Spock stood as she did, grasping her arms. "These... other... feelings are illogical. Our relationship is sound. In logic and in feeling."

"No Spock," she pulled away. "Love requires a certain irrationality I'm not sure you're capable of." She flinched inwardly as hurt and despair settled over his features. But the damage was done. She had to get away. Turning, she opened the door. And fled.

* * *

"And how does the future look?" a gravelly voice asked Mercer.

Mercer jumped and closed the simulation before facing the intruder of his thoughts. Ambassador Spock watched him with obvious suspicion.

"It depends who you ask, Mister Xon," Mercer replied.

"Indeed." He continued to contemplate Mercer's expression. "I suppose I am curious as to what your answer would be."

The implied question hung in the Vulcan's eyes. Mercer didn't dare look around for surveillance cameras – he knew they would be there. The act of searching for them would only raise suspicion, and somehow Mercer imagined that Klingon was on the other end, watching him.

"You seem troubled, Admiral."

"Take me on a tour, would you?" Mercer said, standing and stretching. "My eyes are getting tired from all this work." It was true. The endless numbers representing extrapolated approval ratings were still burned in his retinas.

Spock led him through the station without a word. Eventually they arrived at a chamber used to generate power for the experiment. Three dilithium crystal-driven generators hummed softly. Mercer noticed the resonance made a sound close to that of whispering. Perhaps it was just enough to interfere with listening devices.

"Best to err on the side of cryptic, Admiral. But if you will, it is safe to speak here."

Mercer nodded, pretending to inspect the components in the drive. "The future looks very... um... dark. Like..." he faltered.

"Like a dying candle blown out before its time?" Spock finished for him.

"Yeah, something like that." Mercer had never been one for great subtlety.

Spock closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. When he opened them again he seemed quite tired and frail to Mercer.

"I apologize that the tour must end here," Spock said loudly, "but the rest are places I'm not allowed to access." Then, more softly, "If I can get us out of this station, can you prevent this?"

Mercer hesitated. He wondered just how deep this conspiracy ran. There weren't many admirals that outranked Grobi, and the people of Earth were so frightened that anyone could be in on the plan. If that were the case, he would be branded a defector. For life.

"Can they really do it?" Mercer asked. "I mean, will the experiment really... work?"

Spock nodded. He glanced over Mercer's shoulder as though someone was watching. Mercer's heart skipped a beat, but Spock shook his head to show he had been mistaken.

"Nothing is certain," he said. "But I believe it will work flawlessly."

Mercer nodded. "Alright. How far away can you get us?"

A smile tugged at the Vulcan's lip. "The long-range transporter is in perfect working condition. In theory, all plotted coordinates are now within reach."

"Tarracina, then." Mercer whispered. "Get us to Tarracina."


	6. Chapter 6: Sophismata

**A/N:** I'm baaa-aaaack!

**Chapter 6: Sophismata**

Chekov watched the probe streak across the view screen. He nodded to Sulu and it came to a slow halt.

"Probe inertia stabilized. De-activating tractor beam," Sulu said.

Chekov grunted a barely audible "thank you" as his eyes swept over the sensor data. So far so good. He turned to Uhura, who was already glued to her terminal.

"Go ahead Ensign. I'm watching the data stream."

"Applying power... now," Chekov said.

At first, nothing happened. Then the probe lit up, shimmered, and disappeared against a background of stars.

"Uhura?" Chekov held his breath.

"Data stream still coming through."

"Excellent!" Chekov rubbed his palms together. "Eet worked. This will give us a baseline for tracking cloaked Romulan ships."

"Ensign," Sulu said. "We are receiving the probe's signal but I'm having trouble discerning the exact location. There seems to be some kind of signal echo."

"What?" Chekov snapped. "That's not possible."

Sulu raised an eyebrow.

"I mean... sorry, sir. But I adjusted for resonant frequencies when I calibrated the probe."

"I'm receiving two other data streams," Uhura broke in. "They're similar, but each one is distinct."

"What the hell did I miss?" Chekov squinted at the viewscreen where he knew the probe should be. The area around it began to shimmer as he scratched his head.

Chekov's eyes widened.

"Shields up! Red alert!"

The outline of two Romulan ships emerged. Chekov braced himself as they launched a volley of torpedoes toward the unprepared Enterprise. But there was no impact. Instead, the probe burst into a million fragments and evaporated.

"Shields up!" Sulu echoed. "All hands remain calm! Hold fire, hold fire!"

The bridge crew held their collective breath as the Romulan ships loomed over them. Chekov steadied himself against his terminal. They were not firing.

"I'll take it from here, Ensign," Sulu put a hand on his shoulder. "Uhura, alert the Captain."

* * *

Kirk looked from the quaking ensign back to the viewscreen.

"Chekov, what exactly did that experiment of yours _do_?"

"Eet's not my fault sir!" Chekov protested.

"So other than the probe, there haven't been any aggressive movements?"

"None, sir," Sulu replied.

"Hail them," Kirk said, lowering himself into his chair.

"No response. Wait-" Uhura said. "Text-only. 'Release Captain Triaria.'"

"Sulu?"

"Captain, either ship appears to be a match for our own. It would be a... difficult battle to win."

Kirk bit his lip. He wasn't ready for this encounter. He hadn't expected the Romulans to be this bold. Perhaps Camilla was right. Perhaps it was too late.

In that case, there really was nothing left to do but... bluff.

"Open a channel," Kirk said.

"Sir, they're still not responding-"

"That's alright Uhura. Just send them our audio."

She nodded.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. We are holding Camilla Triaria prisoner with no intention of harming her. She attacked a Federation outpost in violation of the Treaty of Cheron. However, we will not hold the Romulan Empire responsible for her actions. We will return your rogue captain to you as soon as we've finished interviewing her. In the mean time, I suggest you lower your weapons so this doesn't end badly."

"Incoming transmission," Uhura said. "Audio only."

"Brave words for a Federation Captain so far from home," a thin voice played over the bridge. "We find you here among the blasted fragments of our ship. By experimenting with cloaking technology you are also in violation of the very treaty you champion. And you expect us to wait patiently while you interrogate one of our Captains?"

Kirk took a deep breath. _Sure, why not?_ he thought.

The Romulan laughed slowly, mirthlessly.

"There is no room for bargaining here. You have ten minutes before-"

"Captain," Sulu interrupted. "I am detecting an energy flux off the port bow."

Suddenly a shuttle craft popped into existence. It did not shimmer like a cloaked ship, but simply materialized out of thin space. Kirk heard startled voices and barked orders just before the Romulans ended their transmission. The shuttle craft, apparently Federation, made a quick turn and headed for the Enterprise. Uhura gasped as Admiral Mercer and an older, oddly familiar Vulcan appeared on screen.

"Kirk!" Admiral Mercer gestured at the Romulan warships furiously. "What the _hell_ are you doing out here?"

"Admiral?" Kirk stared in disbelief. "I have everything under control. But what are you-"

"With your permission," the older Spock interrupted, "I am piloting the shuttle to the safety of the Enterprise."

* * *

Mercer watched Kirk pace the room from across the conference table.

"This is all pending my recommendations, of course," Mercer added.

"Given our unexpected absence," Admiral Spock added, "I do not think they'll wait for us."

Kirk stopped at the porthole. The Federation had never exactly been good to him. Not until he pulled a shipload of luck from his backside and handed them a share. But the organization had been... parental, if only a bit abusive. Genocidal intent was hard to swallow.

But somehow, it wasn't completely out of character.

"Kirk to security. Escort Captain Triaria to the conference room."

Mercer and Spock stood in unison.

"It would be unwise to-" Spock began.

Kirk cut him off with a sharp glare.

"You watched as your world was destroyed by a Romulan ship. You aren't immune to emotion, Spock. Did you develop this weapon knowing what it would do?"

Mercer flinched, turning his gaze to his companion.

Spock opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again and thought for a moment.

"I developed the transporter knowing what it _could_ do. I knew the potential for harm, but expected it would be a tool of exploration." He sighed and cast his eyes downward. "I did not anticipate such creative malice from the Federation. But then, things are quite different in my time line."

Kirk did not seem satisfied. Spock smiled faintly.

"Skepticism suits you well, Jim. I assure you that logic was at the heart of my decision. Holding an entire race responsible for the actions of a few is illogical."

At last, Kirk nodded. He let out a slow breath.

"Boy, do I know someone who needs to have a heart-to-heart with you."

Spock quirked an eyebrow, but before he could speak the door slid open. Camilla entered the room and surveyed the others before turning to Kirk.

"What do you want from me?" she sneered.

"We may need your help."

She laughed.

"Trouble in the ranks?"

"Yes," Kirk replied.

Camilla frowned. She felt a tingle of suspicion as Kirk introduced her to the admirals. These humans were going to great lengths to gain her trust.

"Now, Captain..." Kirk said when they took their seats again. "We have two Romulan ships out there. But we need your help." He turned to Mercer. "I want you to tell her everything you just told me."

* * *

Scotty smiled at the shuttle craft. Beautiful condition for a Class D. Seeing it was like running into an old friend. He had fixed one up during his time in the academy, one deemed "beyond repair." Sure, that kind of extra-curricular didn't come with girls... but what more could a man ask for than the satisfaction of working with his hands?

"Sulu to Scotty," interrupted his nostalgia.

"Yes sir?" Scotty sighed.

"We're picking up a sub-space transmission from inside the shuttle craft. Please investigate... it could be some kind of homing beacon."

Scotty frowned. The ship's computer didn't indicate any such thing. Tricorder already in hand, he scanned for another source.

There it was. Aft starboard hull. He ran his fingers along the cold, ferrous surface, then stopped. Was that... a voice? He placed his ear against hull.

"...still in the dark, but we seem to have stopped," it whispered. "Every journalist dreads and dreams of her call to duty. I am proud to embrace the dangers of working in the field, and bringing you, The People, the uncensored truth that you deserve – OW!"

A blond woman half-toppled out of the compartment as Scotty removed the outer panel. She recoiled at first, adjusting to the light.

"You need any help there lass?"

Upon seeing a smiling face and open palm, she brushed the wires from her hair and clasped Scotty's hand in a firm handshake.

"Oh, thank you!" she breathed. "Thank you for helping me out of there. My name is Estelle Beaudreau – perhaps you've heard of me?"


	7. Chapter 7: Tuum Nosce Hostem

**A/N:** Only one more chapter after this!

**Chapter 7: Tuum Nosce Hostem**

Camilla hated humans. They were too complicated. Too chaotic. And certainly too smart for their own good.

Yet their story fit. Nero, the mysterious Romulan captain, was from the future. That much made sense. She could even swallow the idea of two Spocks existing in the same universe. But two Federation admirals _willingly_ informing her of a strategic attack? She rubbed her brow in frustration.

"Remind me why I should trust you," she asked.

"Because it is the only way to save your solar system," Admiral Spock said simply.

"Listen Triaria," Mercer said, "If you call off your ships we can attempt to-"

"Call them off?" Camilla laughed. "I called them _here_."

Kirk blinked.

"How did you..."

"I got away with it because you are too quick to trust. A character flaw which I do not share." Camilla shook her head. "No. It is only a matter of time. You are out-gunned and my people know it. Kill me, if you like. Plunder my mind with one of your pet Vulcans. But the Enterprise will not survive this day."

She almost regretted the look on his face. He really had trusted her.

"Sulu to Kirk," came over the comm. "We're detecting a second energy flux, much larger this ti-"

The conference room trembled and the lights dimmed. Mercer and Spock exchanged a glance.

"Kirk to Sulu," he tried. Nothing. "Kirk to Bridge."

Still no answer. The lights dimmed a second time and three heavily-armed figures materialized on the far side of the room. Camilla recognized the transporter technology as Federation.

"Grobi," Mercer growled.

"Nobody move now," said one of the humans. An admiral by rank, she surmised. He was flanked another human officer... and a Klingon.

"Don't worry," Grobi crooned. "Between the Enterprise and the USS Brutus, I think we can handle a couple of skittish Romulan ships."

The Klingon sneered at Mercer.

"And we find you here, selling out to this breeding-sow for scum."

"I assure you, _Klingon_..." Camilla hissed, "I am their prisoner. Only a coward would ally himself with the Federation."

"Hab SoSil', Quch!" the Klingon took a step her way.

"Easy Zargin, we need her mind," Grobi said. "These two, however," he turned to Mercer and Spock, "are traitors without honor."

"And the boy?" Zargin gestured to Kirk.

Grobi smiled.

"Captain James Kirk, correct?"

"Yes sir," Kirk replied.

"I've read the reports. Brilliant, ambitious, creative... your dedication to Starfleet is commendable. And your talents are rare. You are exactly the sort of leader we're going to need in the times ahead."

"Thank you, sir."

"I imagine you've already heard what these two are planning," Grobi went on. "Jeopardizing the lives of every being in the Federation."

Kirk hesitated.

"Oh yes," Grobi said. "That's exactly what they would do. In the name of ethics. For the sake of being _politically correct_. But Kirk, you're out here where the action is. You and I understand... there's no time for politics when it comes to life and death."

Kirk nodded. Camilla narrowed her eyes. What was he playing at?

"I think you would make a fine admiral someday. Perhaps someday soon. You're a bit young, but then, that's what they used to say about me."

Grobi locked eyes with Mercer and offered his phaser to Kirk.

"Of course, I would need some assurance that you're on board."

The Klingon trained his weapon on Kirk while the third officer moved in on Camilla.

"It's set to kill," Grobi said.

"Of course," Kirk replied, accepting the phaser.

He turned, aimed at Mercer, and fired.

"Jim!" Spock cried, getting to his feet. Kirk fired again and the elderly Vulcan crumpled to the ground. Zargin grinned and rested his weapon at his side.

"Killed by your favorite student," Grobi said, nudging Mercer's corpse with his toe.

"I never quite got the hang of trusting my elders," Kirk said. He quickly aimed his phaser at Camilla and winked.

Kirk fired as Camilla dropped to the deck. The officer behind her fell to the ground. Camilla lunged for the Klingon's knees, topping him onto her. Bad situation – he was far stronger than she. Camilla writhed out of his grasp, kicking him in the ridges and reaching for his dropped phaser.

"I'll give _you_ a smooth forehead," she growled, firing. His body fell limp.

"Grobi to transporter room one!" Camilla heard the admiral gasp. Kirk had him in a head lock, but Grobi had managed to free an arm and tap his communicator. "Five – to – beam – up!"

* * *

Kirk felt as though his head had been split in two. His eyes throbbed beneath their lids. For a moment, he thought he was back at the Academy. He wondered which class he'd slept through this time.

Then he cracked his eyelids and saw the dim light of a starship brig. Two guards stood at the main door. There was a row of cells on the right, their doors also shut. Kirk tried to move, but found his arms held at his sides. He looked the other way and saw Camilla next to him, also restrained.

"Hey," he whispered. Her eyes opened slowly and she let out a groan.

"They must have stunned us on the transporter pad," Kirk said.

Camilla turned to him. "You killed your friends."

Kirk winced.

"I hope not. I tried to adjust the setting while firing... but it's tricky."

The brig doors opened and Grobi entered. He was followed by an expressionless young Spock.

"Your first officer here informs me that he won't meld with the Romulan, even under direct orders," Grobi said, stopping in front of Kirk. "But I insisted that he could be persuaded."

"Torturing the Captain will not work," Spock said. "I know that he is also opposed to such a move. It would be illogical of me to listen to his advice under duress."

"Oh?" Grobi said. "But surely logic is only half the truth. For you, at least."

"You are correct. I am only half-Vulcan. But Captain Kirk and I have been... at odds in the past. Seeing him in pain would not evoke the emotions which you intend."

"Thanks," Kirk muttered under his breath.

Grobi chuckled and removed a device from his pocket.

"That would make you weak by Vulcan standards, no?" He nodded to one of the guards. A cell door opened to reveal Uhura behind a force field. Spock's eyes widened at the sight of her.

"Don't you do it Spock," she said as Grobi pressed a button. The cell began to crackle with electricity. Uhura's back arched and she fell to her knees, mouth agape in a silent scream.

"Stop it," Spock said, struggling to keep the panic from his voice. "This is a crime. The Federation will hear about this."

The crackling ceased and Grobi raised his eyebrows.

"The Federation needs intelligence. Intelligence that I am authorized to gather – at – any – cost."

The cell crackled, Uhura shrieking with each burst. Spock watched helplessly as she flailed.

"Stop," he pleaded.

Grobi waited, watching the Vulcan's resolve crumble. The smell of burning hair wafted through the room.

"Please," Spock said. "I will surrender my abilities. I cannot let you do this to her."

"That's what I thought," Grobi said, letting up at last. He gestured to Camilla. "I want you to extract everything you can. Every last evasive maneuver, military code and shield modulation she has."

Spock nodded, but his eyes did not leave Uhura. She lay against the wall, panting, staring back at him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. A tear rolled down his cheek.

Camilla felt fear rising in her chest as Spock approached. She tried to calm it, to focus on her defenses, but his fingers were already resting against her face. She tried to pull away, to kick, to scream, but she was was restrained in every way.

And then she was back on the Enterprise, in her quarters. She and Spock were alone. He was angry – furious at her.

_It's not real_, she realized. She was re-living a memory. No, Spock was re-living her memories. Sifting through them one by one. Her trusted First Centurion, Balbus, was standing beside her on the bridge. She felt a wave of comfort at seeing his face again.

_ No, damn it_, she thought, snapping herself back to the brig. _This is not real._

Her identity was slipping away. She managed to cry out, but watched it happen through Spock's eyes.

Back on the Enterprise. Drinking with Kirk. That imbecile. She could have killed him that night. He was lucky she found him interesting.

Camilla felt her mind relax. Every memory was now open to its new master. He pushed deeper, until she felt herself recalling the rifts in the senate. Her ambitions. Her desires. Her family.

She briefly wondered if Spock had any family. His conscious mind draw back, as if it had been slapped. Had she regained control? She seized the opportunity and reached out, catching memories of a stern Vulcan father and warm human mother.

She poured herself deeper into his mind. The academy. Disappointment from his father. Blame at his human side. Toward his mother's emotional weakness. Anger at her for being swallowed by a dying planet. Falling away from him, gone forever.

_No... stop!_ she heard his voice in her head. _How are you doing this?_

Camilla found herself living the scene over again, feeling the sting of sorrow with each pass. Now it was his father. Now it was Uhura. Every time she was right there, so close... but nothing could be done.

It was, and would forever be too late.

At last, she let go of the memory. She found herself lying on a chunk of rock, suspended in space. Spock sat next to her, head in hands. Camilla sprang to her feet, ready for a fight. But he did not move.

_Where are we?_ She heard the thought echo across the stars.

_This is all that's left of my world_, Spock returned.

_How _am_ I doing this?_ Camilla asked. She reached into Spock's mind for an answer and recoiled at what she found. A common ancestry between Romulans and Vulcans?

_Our scholars have long suspected it_, he said, looking up at last. _You may have long-dormant telepathic abilities that allow you some control. It may be that you are very strong... or perhaps I am __simply weak._

Camilla paced the length of the boulder, trying to conjure a sense of triumph of her enemy's defeat. But emptiness was all she could feel. She closed her eyes, imagining her home world. Magnificent rivers of lava against charred cliffs. A rising sun through jagged peaks. She found herself standing on one such precipice, just outside the capitol city. Spock was with her, surveying the landscape through her eyes.

_And now you see, _She thought. _I come from a land of chaos. In this nursery we learn that life's most sacred duty is survival. Races sew the seeds of their own destruction as the universe cools and dies with every passing moment. Our war is not with the Federation. We fight a war against entropy. We bring order to the universe._

_ We must find a way to co-exist, _Spock thought. _We aren't as different as you think. There are other kinds of persistence, other kinds of order._ _The Federation, for example-_

Camilla glared at him and turned to the sun. It pulsed and grew brighter until it seemed to spill over the cliffs themselves. The air became so hot that the rivers turned to vapor, followed by the cliffs and city. All was gone.

_We must prevent this,_ they thought.

* * *

Uhura blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision. For a moment, she thought she had seen tears in Spock's eyes. The world was silent but for a ringing in her ears.

Slowly, Kirk came into view. He was standing – no, restrained. She remembered now. They were on the Brutus.

"No!" she cried out, rushing toward Spock and smacking against the forcefield. The impact cleared some of the fuzz. She looked up and saw him, eyes closed, fingers laid against the Romulan's face. Admiral Grobi looked at her and put his finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

Spock's eyes opened, as did Camilla's. Spock turned to Grobi.

"I have completed the interrogation. And she is under my control."

"Oh?" Grobi said. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"As a sign of my good faith," Spock motioned to Uhura. "For her sake."

"In that case, this may all play out better than expected. One of the Romulan ships is still cloaked out there. Perhaps she could flush them out."

"Of course," Spock said.

"Grobi to bridge. All hailing frequencies."

He nodded to Spock. Spock closed his eyes.

"This is Captain Camilla Triaria," Camilla began. "I have decided to become the first Romulan member of the Federation. I spit on the Empire and curse the Senate. But when you are defeated, remember one thing: Fire on their shield generators, phaser frequency 129.18!"


	8. Chapter 8: Summum Bonum

**A/N:** Sorry, I lied. There will be one more chapter after this and _then _I think we're done. Stay tuned!

**Chapter 8: Summum Bonum**

Admiral Spock massaged his newly-healed wrist. Minor damage to an aging vessel. Mercer, however, had not fared so well. Doctor McCoy stood at his side, contemplating his vitals.

The ship shuddered again. More combat. Spock wondered how the others were faring aboard the Brutus.

Then the door slid open.

"I'm fine," Uhura grumbled as she was led to one of the beds.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," McCoy murmured after a quick scan. "It's a low-grade electrocution."

Spock felt a weakening in his chest. One extra, aching heartbeat.

Her hair was sticking out at odd angels and her skin so dry it was peeling in places. But her beauty was still striking. He turned his face, hoping she would not see him.

He had better be getting to the bridge, anyway. She would be fine with the Doctor. And the sounds of combat had started up again. They would need him.

"Hey," he heard a soft voice. He pretended not to hear and headed for the door.

"Hey-" she called again. "Ow! Doctor, leave me alone. I said I'm fine..."

Spock sighed in relief as the sounds of sickbay faded. Now, for the bridge.

"Not so fast," came from the corridor behind him. She stood there, hands on hips, waiting.

"Lieutenant," he whispered with a slight nod of his head.

"You're him, aren't you?"

"I'm who?" he tried.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Spock."

His name coming from her lips struck him.

"You have me at a disadvantage," he said at last. "I am, but not the Spock you know."

"I'm not sure I know him so well, either," she glared at the floor. "Listen, he told me about you. And I know that you aren't the same person. You don't owe me anything. But I just... I need to ask you something."

He nodded slowly.

She took a shuddering breath, then spoke.

"What happens? In the future? Are we...? I mean, do we..."

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Of course," she sighed. "I should have expected as much."

Spock smiled.

"I mean I can't tell you what happens in _your_ future. My past is a different matter entirely."

She looked up at him.

"Nyota..." the word was so fragile on his lips he was afraid his voice might break. "I was privileged enough to know you in my time. But your paths have long since diverged from my own journey. I can only hope my Self here is lucky enough to get to know you as well as I did. Our... friendship was very strong."

Uhura blinked a couple times, flushing the tears away.

Spock sighed.

"My mother was a great force throughout my young life. She understood the person I wanted to be. So, more than any Vulcan, she taught me how to temper myself. It may be that her absence is what allowed me to surrender to... certain feelings. You must understand, love is a selfish, unpredictable emotion. And especially dangerous when felt so strongly."  
Uhura looked suddenly uncomfortable. Spock realized he had unwittingly confessed his feelings. But all he could do was chuckle.  
"My dear," he took her hand in his. "Neither my Self nor I am worthy of your attention, I assure you. But if you insist, please be patient with me. And know that the feeling will always be returned."

He let go as McCoy appeared at the end of the corridor.

"You," he pointed at Uhura. "You're coming with me. And you," he pointed at Spock. "Your friend is awake."

* * *

Kirk stared at the remains of the Brutus. Scotty had managed to beam them and a handful of others out just in time. There was going to be some serious explaining to do. He watched as Camilla, Spock and Chekov worked together, fortifying the Enterprise shield modulation. At least one good thing had come out of all this.

"Admiral Spock to Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"Mercer is awake."

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief.

"Jim," the Admiral's croaking voice came over the communicator. "It's not over. You need to get to Starbase 8."

Camilla looked up at him.

"It's alright," Kirk said. "Grobi's gone. He didn't make it."

"No, it doesn't matter. I know him, Jim. He would have planned for this. The attack would have been scheduled before his departure. Do you hear me? It's still a go."

Kirk met Camilla's eye.

"The Romulan ship will follow us, won't they?"

"Captain. We need to leave without delay," she replied.

"Yes. But from what Mercer told us earlier, there's a Klingon ship or two cloaked around the station."

Several crew members looked up now, whispering among themselves.

"Captain", Spock interjected. "Perhaps it would be best to discuss this in your ready room,"

"No," Kirk said loudly. "Secrecy is what allowed this to happen in the first place. We are very likely going to be launching an attack on a Federation target, and I want my crew to speak up in case they catch errors in my judgment."

Now he had everyone's attention.

"This is not meant as a threat," he continued. "I'm serious. I want all crew members filled in on the details of this mission. If we're going to be labeled as traitors, I want everyone to have the opportunity to get out of now. Objectors will be noted in my log and beamed to the Tarracina base. Chekov, send out the announcement."

"Aye sir."

"Now," Kirk turned back to Spock. "You were saying?"

"Perhaps it would be prudent to simply contact the commander of Starbase 8 and halt the transport."

"That won't work," Mercer said from the turbolift, assisted by Admiral Spock. "He outranks everyone on this ship. His order would stand."

Camilla bit her lip. She looked from the older Spock to his younger counterpart.

"If I may," she said. "Klingon ships could be a gift in disguise. The Senate fears a Klingon-Federation alliance above all else. If we lead my people to them, the Empire might prove less aggressive toward your species in the future."

Spock nodded his agreement.

"Alright then," Kirk took a deep breath. "We don't have a lot of time. The crew has five minutes to make up their minds." He looked to Camilla. "Then we go. Warp 9."

She nodded.

"Can I talk to you a moment?" McCoy flew off the turbolift and jerked Kirk aside.

"Look, if you don't want to do this-"

"Of course I don't want to," he whispered. "I'm here to perform that reality check you requested. For God's sake Jim, is this worth it?" he gestured to Camilla. "I mean, will we really be so bad off without them around? You're talking about throwing away your career and that of everyone on board. And the Romulans are dangerous, don't you forget."

Kirk sighed.

"If I told you we were going to destroy any other sentient race, would you object?"

"_They_ destroyed Vulcan for crying out loud! They tried to destroy _Earth_!"

"Because we were a perceived threat," Kirk said. "Sound familiar?"

McCoy frowned. He stood in contemplation, hand on Kirk's shoulder.

"As a doctor, I took an oath," he finally spoke. "I swore to do no harm. I just hope that's what we're doing."

Kirk grinned.

"Welcome aboard."

"Sir," Sulu said. "It's time."

* * *

Camilla watched Spock from across the turbolift. He closed his eyes and took a few, slow breaths.

"Preparing for battle?" she asked.

"Preparing for death," he said.

She grunted.

"What's there to prepare for?"

"Those we would miss."

Ah. The woman. Camilla thought of Balbus. He wouldn't have wanted her laboring over his absence at the sight of death. Still, she respected Spock's silence as they made their way to the transporter room.

"Coming out of warp now," Kirk's voice came. "This is where it gets fun."

"Ready for transport," Spock replied as they stepped onto the pad.

"Here," Scotty handed them each a small armband. "You'll need these in case the station raises its shields. These will let us lock onto your signal."

"Hey guys," Kirk spoke again. "Try to come back in one piece."

"Keep the ship in one piece and perhaps we will," Spock said, lips twitching in a slight smile.

"Energize."

The transporter room faded away, replaced by Engineering on the Palmer. The warp drive hummed idly. It was all very much like the Enterprise, if not for the lack of people.

Spock rushed to the main console.

"Attempting to divert navigational control to Engineering... got it."

The terminal buzzed angrily.

"I don't understand. I have it, but I'm locked out."

"Perhaps you're not authorized," Camilla said, looking over his shoulder. "I'm sure we can thank your Admiral Grobi for that."

The computer buzzed again.

"Warning: unauthorized personnel on board. Executing procedure 24a: transport now commencing. Four minutes and counting."

"Great," Camilla said, putting her hand on her phaser. "Can't we just hit the warp drive?"

"No," Spock said. "The blast would destroy the station."

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"There are thousands of innocent people on board."

"There are billions in my system."

Spock hesitated.

"It's the logical thing to do," she added.

"Agreed. But we will spend every moment between now and then seeking alternatives."

Camilla stared at the drive as the computer announced three and a half minutes remaining. Incredible to think that something so small could destroy an entire world. She wondered if a life as small as her own could save it.

And then she saw the solution, shining and brilliant.

"We could disrupt warp capability," she said. "Pull out the physical connections."

"Federation ships have redundant systems," Spock shook his head.

"As do ours," she scoffed. "However, there's a brief delay."

"Only a few seconds."

"How long would a 'delayed' starship survive inside a star?"

Spock looked up.

"A few seconds. But then one of us would have to-"

"Die, yes. We would have to act during transport. But the ship wouldn't be able to damage the sun's core by going to warp. If anything, the energy from the warp drive might buy my people a few more decades before it goes nova."

"I see," Spock said.

Camilla sighed, contemplating him.

"Spock, in some ways I wish we had never met. I've learned more about Vulcans than I ever wanted to know." She put an arm over his shoulder. "And worst of all, I think I just might miss you."

Spock tensed at the touch.

"You can't expect me to let you-"

The last thing Spock saw of Camilla was a flinching smile as she gently squeezed his neck. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, succumbing to the Vulcan pressure point.

"Sorry," Camilla said as she removed her armband. "Couldn't resist."


End file.
